The Rose's Tear
by Ink Scars
Summary: Evan stared at the motionless form of the boy he had come to love so much and a heartbreakingly sorrowful smile graced his face, "Oh Harry, what a beautiful fool you are." - THIS IS THE PREQUEL! Please R&R!
1. Prologue

**The Prologue**

A rat scuttled over the grimy floor, straight towards the plate of rotten food in the corner and settled down to eat. It eagerly devoured the meal until a dirty hand scooped it up, gripping it firmly and it squealed. The rat struggled in the man's hands, wildly clawing and biting, but the man didn't even flinch. The man's clothes were that of an inmates and his blonde hair was covered in filth, not one inch of his skin was clean and, yet, he wore a grin wide enough to split his face in two.

He spoke, a rasping baritone, _"There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws."_ **(1)**

The man's grin widens and, underneath his straggly blonde hair, his bright blue eyes shine with madness. He slowly reaches, with his other hand, to grab the rat's head and, ignoring the rat's teeth that had pierced his flesh, gave it's neck one sharp twist.

"_Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world._" **(2)**

His broken laughter echoed through Azkaban's halls, causing even the most seasoned criminal there to flinch and the guard nearby clenched his fists. Rosier had recently been, much to the ministry's surprise, found alive and sentenced to Azkaban for the part he had played in the war. A part so disgusting and gruesome, it was never fully mentioned. Since he had arrived, the guard's of Azkaban had often found themselves shirking in fear when they met the man's eyes or saw the way the other captured Death Eater's seemed just as fearful of him.

The nearest guard made his way over to the man's cell, repeatedly reminding himself that Rosier was not the one in control. Rosier was the prisoner and he was the guard. He was the one in control. His back straightened and the guard walked proudly towards the menacing laughter.

The guard reached Rosier's cell and glared at the prisoner.

"Rosier, behave yourself!" he growled and Rosier's head snapped up.

The guard almost fled as those eerie eyes stared directly at him and he watched in horror as Rosier raised the bloody rat to his mouth. Rosier grinned at him before viciously tearing the rat's guts out with his teeth, all the while his eyes glued on the guard's face. Blood dripped from Rosier's chin and the guard shuddered in disgust, if there was anyone who deserved to forever be in this hellhole, it was Evan Rosier.

Rosier's rasp broke his concentration and, as usual, all he spoke were meaningless words.

_"There is no question of defence. I have always acted in accordance with the dictates of my conscience. I have nothing with which to reproach myself." _**(3)**

The guard tightened his grip on his wand and turned on his heel, Rosier's mocking laughter following him. Evan Rosier had always been rumored to be insane but now the guard knew...

He was completely, utterly, disturbingly insane.

_

* * *

_**(1)****William Golding, Lord of the Flies.**

**(2)Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.**

**(3)****Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None**

_AN: Yes, there is a method to Rosier's madness. He's not that bad a fellow._**  
**


	2. Tickling the Dragon

_AN: Just so you all know I don't take credit for Harry Potter or a lot of Rosier's character. This is cos' I remember reading a story in which Rosier was very much the same as this Rosier but (after much searching for the story and author) I couldn't find it so I don't know who to give credit to. If you know, tell me? I LOVED THAT STORY! I gave up looking and instead decided to write my own!_

**Tickling the Dragon**

"Voxinous!"

_Burning. He was burning._

_Endless pain, his skin devoured by the angry fire. He writhed._

_His flesh was burning, his eyes were burning! His eyes! HIS EYES WERE ON FIRE!_

_Pain. Pain. Pain! Hate. Hate! HATE!_

_He hated them! Despised them! Pain! Pain! Pain!_

_THEY WOULD FEEL PAIN!_

It had ended. The burning pain was gone. It had stopped and left him curled up on the floor, gasping for breath.

"There, Potter. Did you enjoy that? I did." A sneering voice came from above him, "A brilliant spell all aurors are taught, in case they need to interrogate someone. A lovely piece of spell work, isn't it? As bad as the Cruciatus curse but completely legal, I wouldn't even be fined for using it."

Another voice chuckled and its owner violently kicked him in the side. Harry clenched his teeth, refusing to give them any satisfaction and the hatred he'd pushed to the back of his mind flared once more. Damn them! He didn't deserve this!

"Oh? Trying to be tough, Potter?" the man that had kicked him said and Harry barely managed not to growl.

"Well, then. Try to stay quiet for this." Was all the warning Harry had before the man slammed his boot down and crushed his fingers.

A small yelp escaped his lips and the small jerk of his body that accompanied it made his ribs ache. He lay there for a moment trying to regain his bearings while his two tormentors spat insults at him.

"It's what you deserve, Traitor!" one snarled and Harry couldn't help but let out a weak chuckle at those words.

After all he had sacrificed and done in his life, he was called a traitor? How amusing. Their blurred faces were twisted in loathing as they peered down at him and one of them pulled him off the ground to glare intimidatingly at him.

"Pitiful, Potter, that's what you are! Here you are before us begging for mercy! Mercy you shall never receive!"

"Oh. Mercy, mercy." He deadpanned and they flung him into the wall.

Harry closed his eyes and reminded himself that he wanted to get out of this alive then cradled his bloody hand to his chest. He really needed to learn some tact.

"Get up, Potter! I get to take you to meet your cellmate."

He could tell from the happiness in the man's voice that he wasn't expected to survive his encounter with his cellmate. Then again, since when had he done the expected?

He allowed the man to drag him down the filthy corridors of Azkaban, too exhausted to put up any sort of resistance. Harry numbly surveyed his surrounding, coldly eyeing the mad broken prisoners as they passed them. He calmly concluded that the majority of them wouldn't be any danger to him and immediately dismissed them from his mind.

The guard jerked on the magical chain they had fastened around his waist and he stumbled. Glaring at the guard, he absently fingered the bracelet they had secured around his wrist; it had sealed off his magic. They had sealed off the only thing he'd ever fully relied on, everything else they'd done to him he could've forgiven… but not this. He'd never forgive them for this.

They pulled to a stop and the guard flung open the cell door and shoved the black-haired teen in there as quickly as possible before fleeing down the hallway. Harry warily glanced about the cell, squinting at the shadows, searching for life he knew was there. One of the shadows in the far corner of the cell peeled itself away from the wall and scrutinised Harry as carefully as Harry was scrutinising him.

It was a man, a bit taller than the average height with lank blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. Harry could see the man's blue eyes underneath his fringe as he slinked forward to circle Harry, like one would circle their prey. Even in the darkness Harry could see the blood on the man's shirt and inwardly he sighed. He always got the overly dramatic ones. Always.

"Hello, Harry. You are the Harry I'm thinking of, are you not?" the man rasped.

"I don't know. For all I know you could be thinking of a Harry you knew as a child… if you are I can assure you I am not."

The man chuckled and slowly backed away from Harry to sit on the ratty mattress in the corner. Harry really wasn't getting particularly good vibes off of this fellow and he was quiet grateful for the large amount of space now between them, well, semi-large.

"_Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." _**(1)** he said and Harry gaped at him.

"Did you really just quote Dr. Seuss?"

These words earned Harry another chuckle from the odd man who was now comfortably relaxing on his bed.

"Nice to know some people read their literature.", he smirked then opened one eye to watch Harry with, "Let's try again. Hello, sir, I am Evan Rosier and you are…?"

"Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet one as renowned as yourself Rosier." He said a blandly as possible, considering that lying in front of him was Voldemort's most famous interrogator. To phrase it politely.

"Please call me Evan, Harry."

Harry slinked over to the other mattress and sat on it, all the while keeping his eyes on his cell mate. Well, at least now he knew why the guard was so overjoyed to put him here.

He sat there a while, completely focused on the man in front of him before he hesitantly spoke "Aren't you going to kill me?"

"No."

"Why not?" he asked when nothing more was said.

Rosier pierced him with cold blue eyes and Harry knew right then that it wasn't because the man didn't want to. This man very much wanted to kill him… just for the fun of it. Harry shivered and Rosier's eyes closed once more.

"Just to be contary. They want me to kill you… expect me to. I'm not killing you because I don't want to bring them any sort of pleasure."

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and closed his eyes. The shock of it all was only just beginning to set in. He was in Azkaban. He was in fucking Azkaban with Evan Rosier. Brilliant. Fighting off the oncoming panic attack, he bit his lip and let the stinging pain hold it off.

"You're mad." He hissed and all he got in response was another chuckle.

"_Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad_."

Now the man was quoting Alice in Wonderland. Really? He lay down on his mattress and rolled over so that he faced the wall. He'd just ignore the man.

The silence dragged on between them and mentally Harry was screaming. If there was anything he'd despised about being locked up in his cupboard, it was the pure boredom he'd experience.

"_How… do you know I'm mad_?" he murmured, half hoping the man wouldn't hear him.

"_You must be. Or you wouldn't have come here_." Rosier responded, delight in his voice. Harry knew he shouldn't be playing games with such a dangerous man but… it was that or the boredom.

"_And how do you know that you're mad_?" Harry said, louder than before.

"_To begin with, a dog's not mad. You grant that?" _Had he imagined the rustling of material? Probably.

"_I suppose so."_ He said confidently, he knew this passage, he'd read it five times.

"_Well, then, you see, a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad."_** (2)**, a hand grabbed his shoulder and his eyes met Rosier's, "Now you, Harry Potter, are more than what meets the eye."

Lying underneath the man, Harry suddenly realised that maybe he should have taken the Hogwart's motto a bit more seriously. Because he had the most horrible feeling he'd just tickled a sleeping dragon.

Make that a lot more seriously.

* * *

**(1) **Dr. Seuss**  
**

**(2)** Entire passage from Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

_AN: I do take recommended quotes, if they fit within the context I promise to use them ( they have to be from a novel though) _


	3. To Be Without Allies

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original plot or characters in this story. Part credit also goes to 'A Life of Lies' by NoctemEterna on HPfandom_

**To Be Without Allies**

Inside a dimly lit room, a figure had curled up in the only bare corner of the room. His fingernails were digging painfully into his arms and his red hair fell lankly around his face. The room was messy and it reeked of misery and darkness. The curtains were drawn and the only light that shone through them was the thin sliver that lit up the tormented boy's face.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he chanted, his eyes staring blankly ahead, "You're horrible, hate, hate, hate, you should hate yourself. I'm sorry. Sorry."

His hands shot up to pull at his hair and he whimpered pathetically, he deserved the pain and hate that was coming his way. He knew he did. When Harry had turned those pleading eyes on him he had sneered and turned away. Then he had done the inexcusable.

_Green eyes turned to him begging silently and for a moment he pitied him. Harry's face was a picture of abject misery and hope all mixed together. Hope that he, Ron, would say that he believed him, that he trusted him and that they were still friends. Within his chest, Ron's heart thudded violently and something within his stomach welled up, filling him with nausea._

He had been aware of it since fifth year. The sickness within him. The vile feelings of jealousy and rage that had wormed their way under his skin a bit more everyday, slowly holding more and more power over him. It must have been subtle at first… but it was no longer. Just as suddenly as it had come it was gone, leaving him alone; unable to even convince himself that what he'd done was justified.

"Harry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Others had stood by Harry when he hadn't and they had been punished for it… but they had done what was right. Harry had been blamed for Dumbledore's death, for he had killed him, but he had refused to look past the surface and had thus condemned Harry. He had always known Harry better than all the others and so he'd known what would hurt him the most. He had openly refused to acknowledge him as a friend. He was as pathetic as Hermione had said.

_Her hazel eyes had never contained such fury as she stared him down. She suddenly lunged forward and pushed him, causing him to unbalance and crash to the ground. Ron stared at her, eyes wide and shocked, he would never have expected this from her._

"_You can spurt all the regurgitated bullshit you want but when it comes down to it, you're the worst sort of idiot, the worst sort of friend. You're giving up everything so that you can cling to your little grudges and wallow in your hate. You are the most pathetic creature I have ever seen and for what you have done today… I shall never forgive you."_

_Beside her stood Neville whose face was also twisted in hatred, he had never thought he would see that expression on them. Especially not directed at him. He shakily made to get to his feet when something wet hit his forehead and he cried out. She'd spat on him. _

_His teeth pierced his lip and blood seeped into his mouth as he held back the anger that was straining to break free. She turned her back on him and walked away._

_He was alone._

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he wept, tears streaming endlessly down his face. He wailed a mournful sound but there was no one else in the room to hear him.

No one to hear his sorrow... no one to forgive him.

* * *

His eyes stayed fixed on the cracks on the wall, determinedly ignoring the occasional snatches of song he could hear.

"Rock-a-bye baby… tree top…"

Harry glared at the wall, he refused to show any sort of reaction. He wouldn't even turn around to look at the man.

"Wind blows… cradle will rock…"

Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to retreat within himself. It had been three days since he had been placed in the cell with Rosier and he was still waiting for the man to kill him. When Rosier pinned him down the first night he'd thought for certain he was about to die and for a moment he'd welcomed the thought. That was what scared him the most, that his life had degenerated to the point where death didn't upset him and that as things were, he'd probably be… happy… to die by Rosier.

"Down will come baby… all…"

And now the song repeats. For the last hour or so, Rosier had been singing that lullaby and Harry knew the man would keep on singing it until he got some sort of reaction from him. He yawned, the lack of sleep he'd had of late had only just began to get to him.

"Rock-a-bye baby, in the…"

They'd been playing the game for the last two weeks or so, Rosier would do something strange and Harry would try not to react. He'd lost every time.

It was enjoyable, Harry supposed, to have something to distract him from the monotonous days inside the cell. He fingered his matted prison clothes absentmindedly, and listened to the rasping voice of his cell mate, his shoulders slumping as he relaxed.

"The cradle will rock…"

Harry yawned again his lidded eyes lowering slightly. Peaceful and calming the sound lulled him; he'd never had anyone to sing to him. Nobody had cared enough to do anything of the sort. Harry lowered his chin onto his chest and let the sounds wash over him.

"When the bough breaks…"

It really was very relaxing as the song echoed slightly in the cell, somehow reminding Harry of the sea's tide. Harry's eyes began to droop and his hands fell into his lap.

"The cradle will fall…"

Really, it was very nice of Rosier to sing.

"And down will come baby…"

Very nice.

"Cradle and all…"

Darkness swallowed Harry as his lidded eyes closed completely and slumped over into waiting hands, briefly wondering as he fell to sleep, why were hands there in the first place?

_The potion shimmered, its ethereal quality making it seem even more dangerous then before. Harry held the shell full of potion to Dumbledore's lips and man's frail hands grasped at him pathetically tugging at his robes._

"_Noooo…" he moaned and tears welled in Harry's eyes._

"_Just one more… Headmaster, this is the last one…" Harry comfortingly stroked the man's throat, forcing it down as Dumbledore spluttered. It was over. Harry quickly grabbed the necklace and then tightly gripped Dumbledore's arm so that he could apparate them to Hogsmede._

"_Thirsty…" Dumbledore moaned and Harry hesitated. He didn't know why Dumbledore's words caused him unease but it was enough to make him pause._

"_We'll be in Hogsmede soon, Headmaster, just… hold on." Harry gently patted Dumbledore on the back but instead of comforting him it caused the man to become even more upset._

"_Nooooooo. Get back. Get away from me." Dumbledore scrambled backwards on the rocks and Harry scrambled to grab the frightened man. He was getting dangerously close to the water and a shiver of pure fear ran up Harry's spine. The Headmaster was now at the very edge of the small island but the man's face, once twisted in fear, was now frozen. Dumbledore sighed, a soft release of air, and stood, once more looking the impressive wizard Harry knew. A calming smile formed on the wizened face and Harry eyes closed in relief. All was well._

"_Bye bye." Dumbledore said the gentle smile morphing into a demonic grin as he fell backwards into the water. Harry froze in place, too shocked to move, before a wail broke loose from his throat and he recklessly plunged into the water. _

_Pale hands filled his vision, so smooth and white they were unnatural. _

_They grabbed him, choking him and tearing at him as he struggled blindly, frantically gasping for breath. He choked as he inhaled water. Something sharp sank into his ankle and he gasped again, inhaling more water._

_He couldn't breathe. Couldn't. Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Breathe!_

_In the corner of his vision he saw something black in this sea of pales and he grasped it frantically before he felt the strange sensation of being squeezed…_

_And then darkness…_

Rosier looked down at the child whose head he'd gently lowered into his lap. After spending a little more than two weeks with the boy he could still say he was no closer to understanding him. This brat had to be one of the most fascinating enigma's he had ever come across.

Potter twitched in his sleep and Rosier scowled, after all the effort he gone to to make sure the boy slept, the boy was going to reawaken? Not likely. Puzzled slightly as to how to calm the boy he settled for jerkily smoothing Potter's fringe down but, instead calming, the child flinched and Rosier face grew stonier.

He was more than a little irritated that his attempt at calming the brat hadn't succeeded.

He heaved a sigh; he was a master at deciphering people and then tearing them to pieces. Not only was he good at it but he enjoyed it also, so why was this little boy's mind evading him? Potter wasn't above average intelligence, nor was he brilliant at strategy or anything. He truly seemed to be little more than a normal teenager… with the strangest emotional reactions Rosier had seen.

The boy fought when he wanted to run and ran when he wanted to fight, showed signs of being abused but still had it in him to trust nearly everyone around him, smiled when he ought to be crying and cried when he ought to be smiling.

Rosier had considered that the boy had a mental disorder but Potter's reactions to several of his other tests had proved that theory wrong. He'd then considered the boy's mind being magically tampered with but that theory had been disproved when, after spending six nights gathering the energy required, he'd performed the simplest of legilimency on the boy… receiving no results.

The struggling of Potter grew more frantic in his arms and Rosier looked down at the boy thoughtfully. The brat really needed to sleep more; he had dark rings under his eyes and had, in the last few days, retained a sickly yellow colour.

It seemed as though he had no other choice.

Rosier placed his hands around Potter's throat and began to tighten his grasp. Potter's struggling grew more frantic and Rosier noted absentmindedly that this was great stress relief really.

A guard passed by and paused at the sight of Potter struggling weakly in his lap. When he turned away with a sneer on his face Rosier bared his teeth and spoke mockingly _"An appeal to a goodness which is not in him is, to a vain and sensitive soul, a stinging insult."_**(1)**

Potter's struggles finally lessened as he fell unconscious from the lack of air and Rosier had to restrain a growl at the fading footsteps.

_"Do you think... that men have always massacred each other, as they do today? Have they always been liars, cheats, traitors, brigands, weak, flighty, cowardly, envious, gluttonous, drunken, grasping, and vicious, bloody, backbiting, debauched, fanatical, hypocritical, and silly?"__**(**_**2) **He hissed angrily, murderous intent rushing through his veins as the sight of the guard turning away from Harry replayed over and over in his mind.

How dare they abandon his child like that? Leave him to die!

Rosier cared little that he was the one 'killing' Harry; all he cared about was the blatant dismissal of the black-haired boy in his lap. His fisted hands relaxed, his fingers unclenching as he gazed upon the child before him.

The boy truly had no allies left in this world.

For the first time in his life, something akin to pity stirred in Rosier's mind and he gently brushed Harry's fringe to the side.

"_Every man who is truly a man must learn to be alone in the midst of all others and, if need be, be against all others." _**(3) **He whispered to the unmoving boy and a twisted smile grew on his face.

"And I shall teach you how."

* * *

**(1) Frederick Rolfe, Hadrian the Seventh  
**

**(2) Voltaire, Candide**

**(3) Norbert Guterman, A Book of French Quotations **

_AN: How's that? Am I rushing Rosier's **fatherly **affection?_**  
**


	4. Assuming the Worst

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or plot from Harry Potter. I don't own the character Rosier's personality in this story either. If you like it, go to 'A Life of Lies' on HPFandom. I story that I luuuuuuvv by the way.

* * *

**Assuming the Worst**

...

_He was warm and conformable. An alien feeling that left him with a sense of wrongness, something was **WRONG**. He struggled weakly, trying to wake so that he may fight off the **WRONGNESS**. He had to wake. _

_Cold hands covered his eyes and he froze, someone was touching him. The hands began to smooth out his hair, gently carding their fingers through it. **RUN**. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of a stunningly beautiful woman's face, his head was lying in her lap. **WRONG**. Her emerald eyes watched him fondly from above as a her fingers ran through his hair. _

"_M-m-mum?" Harry stuttered._

_She smiled down at him and placed a finger on his lips. Harry couldn't help but flush at the contact and he opened his mouth to speak again. **WRONG**. Her look of disapproval made his mouth close with a snap and his mother stifled a giggle. He closed his eyes and lay there in the comforting warmth, ignoring the part of his mind **SCREAMING** something was **WRONG**. _

_He was peaceful, here in the lap of his mother, finally feeling as though he was deserving of love and comfort. **RUN**. Her hands slowed their pace until they stopped completely and he opened his eyes. She smiled at him and he smiled back. **WRONG.** He closed his eyes once more, everything was alright. **WRONG. WRONG. WRONG**._

"_Hey, mum... are you proud of me?" he murmured and opened his eyes to see her response._

_**WRONG.** Her face was twisted with loathing and hatred. The beauty she had once had was gone, so extreme was the disgust on her face. _

"_Who would be proud of a murderer?", she spat, her emerald eyes filled with a cold fire. She pushed him out of her lap and stood so that she could look down on him. _

"_I wish I had let Voldemort kill you, you vile traitor!"_

**_WRONG. ALIEN. BAD. RUN. RUN. RUN. RUN._**

**_RUN!_**

Harry's eyes shot open and he gasped for breath, choking back tears as the memory of his mother's words hit him. His blurry sight cleared until he could see the curious stare of Rosier's blue eyes above him. Horror coursed through him and he scrambled out of the man's lap, banging into the wall in his desperation to escape the man.

"Why?", Harry croaked and rubbed his sore throat, "What are you doing?"

Rosier smiled, "What I want to do."

"_You can't please yourself by doing what you want. Because it doesn't mean anything if it's just you. There has to be someone that it matters to." _**(1) **He responded, the words flowing off of his tongue easily and Rosier's face lit up with joy.

"Homebody by Orson Scott Card. Well done, you nearly quoted it perfectly. My response is _'__Love is the worst of lies one can tell oneself__'."_ **(2)**

Harry growled at the gleeful man and hissed angrily, "Just don't touch me ever again."

His statement was met with a considering look and Harry inwardly cursed the man. Because he had roused the man's curiosity, Rosier would continue to bother him until he had figured Harry out and Harry had the worst feeling that that it would be a long time until Rosier was satisfied. He had tried, and continued to try, to come up with ways to discourage Rosier but had only came up with blanks.

Rosier wasn't one you wanted to anger. He was viscous, mean and ruthless.

Known as one of the only Death Eaters the Dark Lord listened to, Harry had to be careful what he said, otherwise it would be his death. A startled chuckle slipped past Harry's lips, his death was almost guaranteed no matter what he did. Did it matter if he told Rosier everything? No. He was no longer the saviour.

He began to laugh almost hysterically, he could tell Rosier anything he wanted. This war had nothing to do with him anymore, in one of the most twisted ways he was free. Free from the war that had plagued him since his birth.

His laughter died out as Harry became aware of the stinging pain in his neck. Harry rubbed at his throat absentmindedly, his nightmares last night must have been pretty bad if he had screamed enough to make it this sore. It was a good thing he didn't remember most of them…

"Rosier.", Harry rasped and the man paused in his pacing, "Did I wake you, last night?"

A grunt was his response and Harry, taking that as a confirmation, continued.

"Well, uh…sorry then. I generally put up a silencing ward or something but," Harry held up his wrist so that the magic seal was obvious and smiled wryly, "I couldn't this time."

Rosier paled at the sight of the bracelet and lunged forward, grabbing Harry's wrist in an iron grip.

Harry flinched at the awe filled eyes that the man turned on him, "This deprives an average wizard of all of their magic… so tell me, boy, this combined with the magic suppressing wards, how can you not be insane?"

He didn't know how to respond to the sudden change in attitude nor what Rosier had told him so Harry said the first thing that came to mind, "Don't call me boy."

A bitter laugh was his answer, "That is what you react to! Of all the things! Very well, then, I shall call you… Cahane."

"What! I already have a name!" Harry said bewildered and Rosier smirked.

"A terrible one too, '_Names__ are important as they tell you a great deal about a person._' **(3) **Harry is a common name and you are not common at all."

"Why Cahane, then?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Because I like it."

Harry wanted to throttle the man, he really did. "That's awfully selfish of you."

"I'm a selfish person." Rosier responded.

Harry glared at Rosier and turned to face the wall. He should have known better than to argue with such a person. It was fruitless.

"Oh and Cahane, some advice. '_You were born with compassion, only that also means that when people are cruel to you it cuts you deep. You won't understand that you have to walk right up to the ones who are being hateful and laugh in their faces and earn their respect. Instead you'll try to figure out what you did to make them mad at you.'_**(4)**"

Harry scowled, he didn't see how that related to him at all. 'What stupid advice.' He thought and opened his mouth to say so when he heard the faint echoes of footsteps in the hall. He held his silence as the footsteps neared, knowing that the sound meant the approach of the only meal he'd get for the day.

The guard arrived and upon seeing Harry scowled and slid the meal through the bars. The meal. As in singular.

"Wait," Harry cried when the guard made to leave, "Where's Rosier's meal?"

The guard ignored him and continued on his way, Harry sighed as he stared down at the food.

"That is my meal." Rosier said behind him.

Harry turned to face the abyss like eyes of Rosier, "What do you mean?"

Rosier snorted, "They left the meal for me seeing as they want you to starve and they assumed I'd wouldn't let you eat if it put my own survival at risk. Really, the care I've been getting since you arrived is atrocious."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond so he stared at Rosier in silence, unsure and slightly nervous that he'd have to give the food to the man.

"Why aren't you eating?", Rosier tilted his head to the side, "_Don't live to eat but eat to live. _**(5)**_"_

"But its your food!" Harry yelped, baffled by Rosier's response.

"I've eaten already."

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Rosier the most skeptical look he could manage.

"Oh, really, well then, what did you eat?"

"A rat… or two."

"Oh… okay, then." Harry said, well used to the weird habits of Rosier and dismiss the man's meal as soon as he had comprehended it.

He quickly began to guzzle the meal down, in the hopes that if Rosier changed his mind, it would be after he had finished. He was completely uncaring of manners ang the disgusting bland taste of what appeared to be some sort of nutritious gruel, he just processed the meal in a matter of seconds. When done he scrambled back to his mattress, quite satisfied with the meal he'd eaten, he had, after all, eaten worse at the Dursley's.

He lay there for a moment before mumbling a quick thanks to Rosier.

"Pardon, Cahane?"

He sighed, he should have known the man would have heard that.

"I said, 'Thanks Rosier'."

Rosier hummed thoughtfully, "Well, yes, I suppose you do owe me now, don't you?"

Harry shot up off the mattress and glared at Rosier.

"You didn't mention anything about me owing you before."

"I changed my mind." Rosier said blandly and a fierce snake of anger uncoiled within Harry's belly.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Call me Evan."

"Fine, Evan," Harry said a sneer of loathing on his face, "What do you what?"

Evan chuckled, "I want you to call me Evan."

"Oh." Harry paused, then flushed bright red. Despite the fact that Rosier hadn't harmed him in any way, since he arrived Harry had automatically assumed the worst of the man. Harry had often been downright hostile to him and Rosier still wanted Harry to call him by his first name.

Rosier saw his face and chuckled again."_Surely only correct understanding could lead to correct action._**(6)**_"_

"Sorry."

"Quite alright, Cahane." Evan assured him.

Harry lay there trying to count the patches of moss on the ceiling but was constantly distracted by his thoughts. This is a bad idea. I really… oh stuff it. He flipped over so that he was facing Evan and tentatively spoke is name.

"Evan."

Evan who had been lying on his back, turned his head so that his blue eyes stared directly into Harry's green. "Yes?"

Harry took a deep breath and drawing on his courage asked, "Do… do you maybe want to talk?"

Evan's face reflected his shock but Harry knew his response the moment Evan began to smile, "Why, yes, Cahane. I'd love to talk."

* * *

The moonlight shone through the thin gaps between the bars and the raging waters below crashed against the walls, lightly spraying the face between the bars. Harry stared up at the moon as he worried about Hedwig's fate.

He knew that it was unlikely his stubborn bird would simply accept a new master and it was also unlikely that any possession of 'the Traitor' wouldn't be considered cursed. Hedwig's loyalty had always been to him no matter what happened and she was a ridiculously stubborn bird so what worried Harry the most is that she was probably trying to locate him.

Loyalty, Harry scoffed, his mind briefly off of the condition of his bird and onto more depressing matters. Had he ever had their loyalty he wondered? Had he ever had a true friend? He could still remember their last words to him and they stung.

_He sat shackled to the courtroom chair, the glares of everyone there on him. _

_Scrimgeour's voice rang through the room and Harry flinched, already knowing the verdict._

"_All those who believe the defendant, Harry James Potter, guilty of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore's death say 'Aye'."_

_A resounding 'Aye' was called out and Harry's fingernails dug into his palms. They were fools. Not giving him a chance to explain, they had dosed him with Verusitum and had asked him if he had been the one to feed Dumbledore the potion. His response had immediately condemned him and the trial had been considered over._

"_All those who believe the defendant, Harry James Potter, not guilty of Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore's death say 'Nay'."_

_Complete silence. Not one person wanted to listen to his side of the story, as always, he was sentenced before he could explain. It had probably been the influence of several unsavory members in the Ministry that made his trial go so quickly. He began to laugh hysterically as the guards led him out of the courtroom, it really was too funny. The fools. Oh, they were such fools!  
_

_His laughter died out as he came face to face with a familiar person. Ron! He must have followed his father to the Ministry to see him!_

"_Mate!" Harry smiled happily, here was someone he could count on to listen! _

_It was then he noticed the scowl on Ron's face. The scowl directed at him. Harry faltered, Ron must have believed them then. Must have condemned him also._

"_I'm not you mate, Potter. From this day on, none of us are." Ron spat, his eyes filled with loathing._

_Harry stared his friend pleadingly but Ron didn't laugh it off, didn't reassure him or tell him that they'd break him out. Ron didn't believe in him.  
_

"_I was sent here by all of Gryffindor house to tell you this, Harry Potter, you may never grace the halls of Hogwarts, may never refer to us as your friends and may never call Hogwarts your home ever again. You are the Traitor that shall forever be remembered as the biggest disgrace to our house. So I say to you enjoy, Azkaban, traitor. My only wish is that the Dementors were still there."_

_The guards beside Harry who had paused so that Harry may 'enjoy' his reunion with his friend were both smirking as they pulled Harry away. One last time Harry turned pleading eyes on his friend, hope shining in them__ that one last time… but Ron turned away._

_Turned away from their friendship._

Harry had entertained thoughts of other people believing in his innocence and planning on breaking him out but they were immediately dismissed as idle fantasies, pointless dreams that he shouldn't dwell on.

Evan shifted in his sleep and Harry flinched, the man had insisted that Harry get some sleep tonight and had scrupulously watched him to ensure that he did. It was only after Harry had faked sleep for an hour or so that Evan had fallen man was nearly as stubborn as Harry in the way he insisted he take better care with his health.

It had been a week since Harry had started calling him Evan and it seemed as though since then the man had become protective of him to an extreme. Evan was now forcing him to eat even if it meant that there was none for the man himself, glaring at the guards who made to pull their wands on Harry and even sleeping beside him when he had nightmares.

Though half the time Harry was scared out of his mind by the sudden turnabout, the other half of the time he was rejoicing. Nobody had ever cared for him like this. Sirius had been more of a friend, one of the guys, and Molly had coddled him so much because she had felt the need to reassure him that she considered him her son. The way people looked at him had always been stifling and imprisoning. When people looked at him they saw a saviour, a friend's son, a golden boy, a student's son, an enemy's son, a seeker, a wizard, a freak, a traitor… but never him.

No one had liked him for him.

Now that someone did… he was unlikely to willingly let them go.

That, he thought, was what scared him the most.

* * *

**(1) Orson Scott Card, Homebody**

**(2) LLydie-Anne, Lilies**

**(3) Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind  
**

**(4) Orson Scott Card, Lost Boys  
**

**(5) Latin Proverbs  
**

**(6) Lois McMaster Bujold, The Curse of Chalion**

AN: I hope you all appreciate how difficult it is to find specific quotes to fit them into specific conversations. Because... IT IS REALLY HARD! If you want to suggest some quotes go ahead just so long as they are from a novel (Rosier would read). I'm saying that because I found a 'Twilight' quote that would have fit perfectly in one of the scenes... but really, 'Dr Suess', is one thing, 'Twilight' is another.

Sorry for not responding to reviews... I'm planning on doing it in the future.

Special THX to Evil Genus for telling me where to find 'A Life of Lies'... I think I love you.


	5. A Little More Time

Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own Harry Potter or 'A Life Of Lies'(can I stop saying this sometime soon?).

* * *

**A Little More Time**

...

He lifted his spoon, his face twisted in disgust, as the lumpy mixture slowly made its way down his spoon. Sour and irritated he pushed the bowl of gruel over to where his fellow inmate was.

"Aren't you going to eat, Evan?"

His eyes flickered over to is companion who appeared to be eating his meal quite cheerfully.

"Not that." He growled and Harry smirked.

His voice mockingly happy, Harry said "Well than, what will you eat? Do tell me. If it something other than rats I might even join you!"

"'_If we're not supposed to eat animals, how come they're made out of meat?_' **(1)**… here, you eat mine." Evan shoved his bowl in Harry's direction and a bit slopped over the sides.

"Oi, be careful!"

Evan shrugged, his nonchalant attitude earning him a glare from Harry and reclined back into his mattress. Harry looked down at the second bowl of gruel guiltily, it wasn't unusual for Evan to push his food off to Harry but the increasing regularity of it was beginning to worry him. The man didn't eat enough to constantly give away his food.

Reluctantly he opened his mouth and nudged the bowl away, "Evan, I can't eat your food."

Silence. Evan was ignoring him.

Harry sighed and crawled over to the other man's mattress, his filthy clothing occasionally catching on the ground. He stared down at the closed eyes of Evan, intent eyes skimming over the man's skeleton like appearance.

"Evan. Please."

Evan's ice blue eyes opened, staring right back at him.

"Please eat."

Those dead eyes surveyed him for a moment before Evan sat up and made his way over to the bowl.

"I'll eat half." Evan muttered as he made his way over there and a relieved smile graced Harry's features.

"Thank you." He said, his voice soft and Evan's lips quirked up.

"_Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, And the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared."_**(2) **

Harry barely managed to withhold a snort at Evan's reply, the seemingly generous attitude not suiting him in the slightest, and watched attentively as the man began to eat. He didn't put it past Evan to trick him into eating the meal himself.

* * *

Lapidus knew who was going to win this war, there was no way he couldn't have. The moment the news of Harry Potter's betrayal reached him, he knew he had to choose the winning side. His position as an Azkaban Guard hadn't given him much prestige as a death eater but he was hoping things would change with this information. The Dark Lord would surely be pleased to receive news of his nemesis and even more pleased to learn of the boy's cell mate.

He carefully made his way through the manor they had gathered in, it was best if he approached one of the higher death eaters. Lucius Malfoy, perhaps?

No, the man was too arrogant. No one liked arrogant people, especially if they had nothing to back it up with.

Bellatrix Lestrange was too insane to even consider but rumours were that Rodolphus Lestrange was one of the more logical 'higher ups'.

Yes, he would tell Rodolphus and hope that his information was good enough to not warrant a cruciatus for his cheek.

* * *

The steady dripping of the water enveloped his mind, it was steady, calm and repetitive. It was a sound that seemed as though it would never cease, but he knew it would. The dripping sound wouldn't occupy his mind for long, not when there was such an strange person around.

Harry smiled, no one did strange like Evan and no one else wanted to. Evan stopped him from thinking of the outside and his troubles, the talks and interactions between them purposefully innocent, never having any link to the war or their violent pasts.

He remember their last conversation, it had been about bees, just bees and their oddities. Harry told Evan of the one time he had been stung by a bee and the man had come dangerously close to realising the way his relatives treated him.

"Cahane.", rasped the man, intruding on his thoughts.

Harry shuffled around until he was facing Evan, "Hmm?"

"We often talk, meaningless conversations that wander off in meaningless directions."

"Yes?"

"We never talk of what truly matters."

"For good reason." He warned, staring into the eyes of the man sitting directly opposite to him.

The blue eyes held a sadness in them and Harry nervously entwined his fingers, he was dreading this conversation already.

"Perhaps, but I wish to talk of it time is running out, Cahane, and I want the air between us to be clear._ 'Nobody's all the way dead yet, but lets just say the clock is ticking.' _**(3)**", Evan took a deep breath, "Cahane, I… am not a good person."

"I know." Harry said, hoping to stop him from explaining further.

"No. You don't.", Evan's eyes seemed to bore into him, "I was born strange, Cahane, all pureblood families have their quirks. The Rosier's quirk is more prominent than most… all of us are born with some sort of talent. The Rosier's have had Seers, we've had those that can control the weather and those that can influence peoples minds, we've had all sorts of things. The one common factor with us is that all of those with a talent are emotionally stunted. Cursed, some call us , and cursed we are."

"What's your talent?" Harry asked, fascinated despite himself.

"My talent lies in reading people and destroying them. It is a talent I use." Evan said, unashamed.

Harry blinked, stunned by the response, "L-look, Evan. You don't need to tell me this. Really, I know your reputation and all that."

"I do need to tell you, Cahane, I need to tell you because you have been painting a picture far to pretty to be me. I torture people and I enjoy what I do."

The two blue pinpricks of Evan's eyes were boring into him, Harry's breath was caught in his throat. He didn't want to know but at the same time he found himself unable to tell the man to stop.

"Evan…" his voice was pleading, he didn't want to know.

"I cut, twist and break them, sometimes I all need to do is talk and they shatter. A nine year old was once given to me, a pretty little mudblood, I was overjoyed. I was so happy, I decided to share my happiness with her, so I gave her two toys. Everyday I forced her to play catch with me and the decapitated heads of her parents, one day she refused."

Evan continued, unaffected by the anger and sorrow on Harry's face, "I told her if she wasn't going to use her hands than she shouldn't have them, I cut them off. The next day, she refused to look at me or her stumps, I sewed her eyes shut. She tried to starve herself, I ripped out her tongue. She wouldn't-"

"Enough!" he barked, shooting to his feet, anger coursing through him.

How dare Evan do that? Expose him to that?

Expose him to the truth…

Harry didn't want to know that the man he had come to care so much for was the sort of man he hated. He had closed his eyes to this truth, had purposefully forgotten just who he was staying with. When was it enough, he wondered, when would the suffering that follow him so closely stop following him?

"Enough…", he whispered and sunk back to the ground, burying his face in his hands, "I've had enough…"

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, "Stop the world… I want to get off."

* * *

Evan paced back and forth inside the tiny cell, irritation coursing through him. That hadn't gone well, he had planned to break it slowly to the boy but he'd messed up, a rare occurrence. After their conversation he had been ignored as his Cahane lay down on his mattress and tried to sleep. It had been three hours before Cahane's breathing had evened out.

Evan had always known when people would be easiest to bend and break but he had misstepped, he had possibly made it harder for himself. He couldn't be sure if his Cahane would raise or lower his shields after that fiasco and he so very much wanted the boy to lower his shields.

Those 'innocent' conversations they'd been having had given him a lot of insight into the boy's mind and had given him plenty of opportunities to slowly alter the less acceptable traits. It would be simpler than he thought, now that he knew how able his Cahane was at deflecting people's attention, his Cahane was being very subtle and sneaky. It pleased him and made him feel… proud.

He paused in his pacing to look over at the peacefully sleeping child, his Cahane… his 'little battler'. The name fit him perfectly, stubborn to a fault, easily riled, secretly good at strategising and compassionate enough to know when battle was not needed. Cahane twisted in his sleep, his eyelashes fluttering and moaned in distress.

Evan by his side immediately, smoothing the hair on Cahane's fringe, so that it covered the inflamed scar. These nightmares were often and distressing but the more trust Evan won, the quicker his Cahane calmed. He wrapped his arms around the writhing boy and hummed a quiet tune. Cahane slowly began to calm, his movements becoming weaker and weaker until they eventually stilled.

A slow smile stretched on Evan's face, that had been the quickest so far, he had made the right decision by telling his Cahane of his past. The painful ache in Evan's chest eased and he stared down at the boy before him with something similar to awe.

"_You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams._ **(4)**"

His thoughts voiced, he took a moment to sigh, this emotion would only bring about trouble. It was inevitable.

He heard the faint echo of footsteps as someone neared and his brow creased in confusion, the guards never patrolled here this late. Carefully, he lowered Cahane onto his mattress and moved back over to his own ratty thing. It was best the guards continued to think he mistreated Cahane.

A guard was indeed making his way down the hallway, his back straight and proud as he practically strutted there. He reached their cell and, after surreptitiously glancing around, leaned forward and beckoned to Evan.

Stunned by the man's stupidity, he raised his brows, what sort of idiot **wanted** to talk to him?

The guard beckoned to him once more and he lazily sauntered over there, unsure as to why his heart was beating unnaturally fast.

"Rosier, I have a message for you." The man whispered and Evan's heart stopped, there was one person who would contact him and there was one reason they would contact him.

"You know who it is from?" the guard prodded and Evan nodded, numb. This was what he had been dreading, it was happening.

"Your orders are to weaken Potter for when He arrives, which will be in three weeks. You are not to kill or to destroy his mind, He wants Potter sane when he arrives. So long as Potter lives and is coherent you can do whatever you want to him. Do you understand?" the guard asked, a malicious smile on his face.

"Yessss." Evan hissed, making his rage at the thought that this man wished harm upon his child sound like eagerness.

The guard gave him a dark smirk and left, Evan stood there shaking with rage as he listened to the man's footsteps fade away. It was only when he was certain that the man was as far away as possible that Evan growled and whirled o his feet, pacing once more.

He had to find some way, some way to save his Cahane's life, without betraying his Lord. There had to be a way, maybe if he begged, begged for his Cahane's life to be spared? No. His Lord would accept nothing but his Cahane's death, he already knew that, but he would accept nothing but his Cahane living.

To betray his Lord would be like betraying his own beliefs, could he really do that? Yes. He would do anything for the green eyed child that had wormed his way into his heart.

He would have to do anything.

Evan stalked over to the small barred window and stared at the moon, holding the bars with his hands he stared at the sea crashing so violently. _"In a whisper he began begging for—and, as the sun set, received—the concession people always beg for: a little more time."_**(5)**

He sunk to the ground, his knees to weak to hold him up.

"Please, please…", he whispered, "Just a little more time…"

* * *

**(1) Unknown  
**

**(2) Gautama Buddah, Sutta Napata  
**

**(3) Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters  
**

**(4) Dr. Suess  
**

**(5) Zadie Smith, On Beauty**

AN: Sooooo, I'm getting desprate for reviews as this is my favorite story (that I'm writing) and like a previous favorite story... not many people are reassuring me it is worth the effort.

PLEASE REVIEW!**  
**


	6. The Truth of His Position

**The Truth of His Position**

...

Harry stared at the wall silently, frozen in place by new revelations. Evan was going to help kill him... his Evan was going to help kill the boy he had just admitted his love for. His fist clenched, he knew he shouldn't he trusted, shouldn't have cared but now it was too late, he was falling headlong into the deep well of hurt that appeared each time he was betrayed.

"Please, please…", Evan whispered behind him, "Just a little more time…"

His hands made their way to his ears and he clutched at them desperately. He hadn't heard Evan say that, he hadn't heard anything. The only thing he heard was the roaring silence in his ears. Harry didn't want to accept it. He wouldn't accept it.

He.

"_Please, please-"_

Hadn't.

"_Just a little-"_

Heard.

"_More time…"_

Anything.

Evan's gentle hands tried to pry his hand off of his ears, whispering soothing words all the while. Evan had realized he had heard and was trying to comfort and reassure him. Fool.

Evan was going to betray him. Willingly.

"_Yessss."_

Harry could hate him for that. Harry should.

"_You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."_

Evan didn't love him. He lied. Evan hated him. He had to.

Because Evan was going to willingly betray Harry. Just like everyone else, Evan was going to betray him.

Evan didn't care. Had never cared. Still didn't care.

So…

Harry didn't have to care.

His head began to throb and his hands grasped even more desperately at his ears.

But he did…

Harry cared for Evan… so… it was okay if Evan cared about him too?

No. Evan had to kill him. Evan couldn't afford to care.

His thoughts a mumbling whirl of pain and betrayal he continued to clutch at his ears and quietly keen.

* * *

His hands shook as he tried to pry his Cahane's hands off of his ears, it was clear that his child had heard their conversation and that, coupled with Evan's confessions to finding pleasure from other's pain must be tearing Cahane apart. He pressed his forehead against that of his whimpering Cahane, wishing desperately that the child hadn't found out about the coming danger so quickly. There was no guarantee that the boy would ever trust him again after this.

"Cahane, child, please don't fear." Evan took a deep breath, "No matter what my Lord commands I won't do anything to detrimental to you. I swe-"

"Noooooooo." His child moaned, flinching away from his hands, "Don't, don't, don't, don't."

"Cahane, I-", Evan paused, swallowing the lump of fear in his throat, "I love y-"

"No!" Cahane barked, "You can't! Don't! It'll only cause more pain for the both of us!"

"I really do lo-" Evan pressed, needing to explain, to reassure his child.

"Evan." Cahane's eyes were as hard as steel, "I won't ask the only person who cared for me to betray his beliefs so that I may live. I know what your beliefs mean to you and that is precisely why you don't and can't love me."

He stared at his child with something akin to horrified understanding; did his Cahane really value his life so little? Was his child so self-sacrificial that he would willingly submit so that he may save a criminal he had known for little more than a month? Without even being certain of his honesty?

For the first time in his life Evan felt like crying, like breaking down and weeping in front of this stupid little child that had so captured his heart.

"Merlin," he whispered, "What did they do to you my child?"

Cahane stared at him with blank eyes, his head tilted to the side; as though he knew he should show curiosity but had forgotten how. Evan grabbed the sides of his child's head almost violently, staring into those eyes, trying to understand how his child could be like this. He stared and stared until he saw, he saw and understood.

It was only now that he knew the true amount of damage caused by those Light fools that he wept, for his poor child was not only a bundle of contradictions but also a bundle of insecurities. A bundle of insecurities that had been carefully built up and created throughout the boy's life, insecurities that had been created purposefully, deliberately, and all so that his Cahane may be their sacrificial lamb.

It had been there all along, he had just refused to see and, now, he was damning himself for it. He had blinded himself to his child's pain.

Evan released Cahane's head from his grasp, his thought whirling furiously, he had to reconsider his plans. He had been prepared to sacrifice his beliefs for his child but any plan he had come up with had relied on Cahane's assistance, now that he knew he would not be receiving such a thing, he would have to force his child. Well, what had to be done… had to be done.

Evan smiled charmingly at Cahane and his child's eyes lit up with hope, sure that Evan was finally agreeing with him. Cahane's eyes were so focused on Evan's face that he missed the fist rushing down from the side to knock him unconsicous.

"_All the truth of my position came flashing on me; and its disappointments, dangers, disgraces, consequences of all kinds, rushed in in such a multitude that I was borne down by them and had to struggle for every breath I drew._**(1)**_"_, Evan stared at the motionless form of the boy he had come to love so much and a heartbreakingly sorrowful smile graced his face, "Oh Harry, what a beautiful fool you are."

* * *

He woke suddenly and violently, shooting off of the mattress with a jolt. Shouts echoed throughout the grey prison, joyful and fearful shouts that told him all he needed to know. Evan breathed deep into his lungs, it was time.

Quiet footsteps echoed as they came down the hallway, calm precise footsteps belonging to the man he feared and revered above all but one.

"Hello Evan.", his master's voice was deceptively quiet and smooth.

"Master." He whispered, shifting so that he could kneel before the cloaked figure before him.

His master's red eyes gleamed as the looked down upon the kneeling figure, "Where is he, Evan?"

Evan's form shook and he lowered his head, "I- I have failed you master."

"How have you failed me, Evan?"

Evan swallowed, "The boy was killed two weeks ago by the guards- I am sorry master. I did not believe the fools would take things so far…"

"_Crucio._" Lord Voldemort intoned.

He writhed on the grime covered floor, tears streaming down his face at the pure fury his master channeled into the spell. The pain told him exactly what his master did not say, the moment this was over he would be forgiven. It was the way things were between them.

"Evan. I knew of this before I came here however… I trusted that you would have a reasonable explanation. You did not." Lord Voldemort vanished the cell bars before him and pulled Evan up by his collar, "It truly shows the affection I have for you that I do not slaughter you here and now… does it not?

"Y-yes, master." Evan choked out.

Lord Voldemort's released Evan and he crumpled to the floor, his knees having lost their strength long ago.

"Come Evan. It is time to remind the Wizarding World why they feared me and my right hand man." Lord Voldemort chuckled, "It will be a reminder for us too."

Evan stood and watched his Lord sweep out of the cell, his black robe billowing behind him, and laid his palm on the wall of the cell.

"_So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear__, farewell remorse; all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good. _**(2)**_"_ he whispered before following after his master.

* * *

**(1) Charles Dickens, Great Expectations**

**(2) **** John Milton, Paradise Lost**

_AN: I know it is ridiculously short. SORRY! I just wanted to start the sequel as soon as possible! _

_The reason for my long silence was actually because I was having a hard time deciding if I should just continue this or if I should finish it up as a prequel. In the end, the first option just wouldn't flow so I ditched it and decided I will take any condemnations you throw at me as they are rightfully deserved and will do things the way I want instead of the way I should. _

_The Sequel will be AWESOME! I promise... I AM SO EXCITED FOR IT!_


End file.
